


I and Love and You (the grumpy old men remix)

by Sophia_Bee



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Charles Is a Big Dorkface, Erik Has Feelings, Erik is not a Happy Bunny, Grumpy Old Men, M/M, Regret, Television Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 11:07:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4744076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Bee/pseuds/Sophia_Bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles and Erik argue over the remote as they go through a movie of their lives together. Erik wonders if Charles has any regrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I and Love and You (the grumpy old men remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Safe work, if any (limit 1): 'Cause I've Always Wanted This'  
> Previous remixes, if any: marked either in the title or the tags  
> I am okay with my non-XMFC/DoFP X-Men works being remixed: Yes  
> I am okay with my collaborations being remixed: no (unless you ask both me and my co-author first)  
> I am okay with being remixed in a different medium (fic for art or art for fic): yes
> 
> Because I'm totally LAME, I missed the deadline for the actual remix. Here it is in Remix Madness. All apologies. xoxo

"You know what I've always wondered, Charles, after all these years."

Erik is staring at the large screen suspended from the wall of the study at the Xavier mansion, and he doesn’t even glance over in Charles’ direction, but still, Charles swallows the sense of dread that wells up at the tone in Erik's voice. Not for the first time and far from the last, he wonders why they do this, dredging up the past, watching the movie of their lives up on the screen, stopping at the more or less important points. Still, they do it, no matter how much he hates it, and now they are doing it again, and Erik is asking the same question he’s asked over the years, the same question Charles often asks himself.

_Why._

There is a trend that these types of conversations always end up with Erik stalking off to one of his international hideaways, the type that Charles always imagines, or hopes, are drippy, dank caves and that Erik always informs him involve plush couches and cocktail service.

"What have you always wondered, Erik?" Charles asks dryly, pretending he has no idea where this conversation is going despite the fact that they’ve had it a million times before.

"Just why. Why you didn't tell me?"

Charles knows exactly what Erik is asking but in the interest of self preservation he continues to play dumb, blinking innocently. "Tell you what?"

Erik sighs and rolls his eyes. After thirty years, he's used to Charles' games, his wide-eyed stare, the innocence he projects.

"You know. On the beach. Why didn't you tell me?"

It would have been so easy, Charles thinks, not looking towards Erik. Three little words, but he wasn’t able to say them. It wasn’t like he didn’t say them over the years. He’s said them more time than he can count, but not the time it would actually mean something.

Erik picks up the remote lying next to the recliner he's lounging in and points it at the screen. Charles watches glibly as their life goes backwards, as he and Erik slowly shift back to their younger selves, until Erik lands on the beach. It's one of their favorite games, picking through their shared past, stopping at familiar landmarks, either to take in the view or to wonder why they are visiting yet again. Charles looks at his younger self on the screen, at the tears in his eyes as he stared up at Erik. He wonders exactly why he didn't say it at the time. It would have made sense, been the obvious choice.

"We're brothers, you and I," Erik huffs in a mocking tone. "Brothers who fuck each other's brains out, brothers..."

"Crude, Erik." Charles says over the other man's words, rolling his eyes.

"...brothers who..."

Erik's voice fades away but Charles finishes his sentence in his head. It's not like neither of them know what Erik was going to say. Brothers who loved...no, are in love with each other. Even now. Even against Charles' better judgement.

Charles sighs heavily and rolls over to pick up the remote. He points it at the screen and goes back mere minutes before Erik had cradled him so carefully on the beach. He is very pleased where he manages to freeze the screen, Charles arching forward from the impact, his hand going towards his back where the bullet had just buried itself in his spine.

"You SHOT me, Erik." Charles says evenly, as if it should be obvious why there were no wrought-out confessions of love in that moment.

"Technically friendly fire." Erik says glibly, glancing away. There is guilt in his easy dismissal. After all these years there always is.

"Technically a bullet in my spine and a lifetime in a wheelchair," Charles answers.

They are both silent for a long moment and Charles hopes his grimace on the screen is sending more waves of guilt through his on-again, off-again lover.

"Let's see how that worked out for you, Charles. The NOT telling me you loved me part." Erik finally says, breaking the silence that sits over them like a shroud and at the same time reaching to grab the remote. Charles clamps his hand down on it.

"Let's not," Charles answers sourly, knowingly full well what lies ahead. Erik tries to pull the remote from Charles' hand and Charles grips it harder. For a moment they are not two of the most powerful mutants in the world but two old men squabbling over a television remote. Finally Erik pulls it from Charles' grasp with a loud 'whoop' and Charles offers him his best scowl as a reward.

"Now for your trail of tears." Erik says with a grin and Charles winces.

"Culturally offensive, Erik." Charles spits out. "I don't call your quest to end humankind your Final Solution, you wrinkly old jackass."

Erik ignores Charles as he fast forwards their life together, although at this point they were very much apart. Charles sees himself arriving home at the mansion, only Hank by his side. He knows what is coming next. He can remember it like yesterday, curling up on the covers of his bed, sobbing for his loss until he was sure he had no more tears. Erik hits pause and as Charles stares at his tear-streaked face, his puffy eyes and red-tipped nose, he wishes he'd learned to pretty-cry just a bit.

"Ah yes, you don't look a bit miserable here." Erik purrs smugly. He fast forwards again, "or here," and one more fast forward, "or here. Maybe..."

"Stuff it, Erik."

"Maybe..."

"Fuck off, you wanker."

Usually Charles spewing out a Brit-ism causes at least a raised eyebrow from Erik but this time Erik just ignores him and continues.

"Maybe you should have just told me that you LOVED me."

"Erik..."

"I'm surprised with all that crying you didn't dehydrate yourself."

"Go to hell."

"Hank probably had to start IVs to give you fluid."

"Sod off."

"I'm shocked you didn't drown in those tears. Hank must have been tired of wringing out those skeezy robes you were so fond of back then."

"Like your ascots were much better, you shallow looks-obsessed man." Charles spits out. Erik spends a long moment looking hurt, and Charles thinks the ascots of the world have a fine defender in the form of the Master of Magnetism. This gives Charles the perfect opportunity to grab the remote himself. Before Erik can protest, Charles lands on the assassination of Kennedy.

"At least I didn't kill a president." Charles crows in triumph as Kennedy’s brains explode out the back of his head. Erik glares at Charles.

"I told you I was trying to save him."

"The bullet curved, Erik. It curved. It fucking CURVED."

Erik throws his hands up in the air and lets out a loud, exasperated sound.

"Just because your sister is bat shit crazy and you can't accept that it was her and not me does not mean you can keep blaming me all these years. There was an inquiry. They cleared me!"

"There was an inquiry, they cleared me." Charles repeats in a sing-song voice.

"I know what you're doing." Erik says. "I haven't been around you all these years for nothing, Professor X. All those students who adore you. They don't know that you play dirty." Erik pauses, smiles a little and licks his lips. Then he continues, his voice growing gravelly. "So very dirty, Charles."

Charles blushes. It seems that sex might be his only way out at this point.

"You like me dirty, don't you Erik? You like me stinking of your come, covered in sweat and dirty as all get out."

Charles watches Erik's lips twitch. He thinks the other man is going to take the bait and it won't be long before they end up in the bedroom, Erik fucking his older but still glorious cock into Charles' mouth while Charles gets himself off with some aggressive nipple play. He starts to smile in triumph when the conversation takes a sudden turn into even more unpleasant territory.

"Shall we talk about the bad poetry?" Erik hums, his voice smooth as silk and practically dripping with satisfaction.

"I have the dildo all clean if you'd like me to fuck you." Charles says hurriedly, scrambling for traction and the conversation starts to go south.

"Overwrought trivial lovelorn slop."

"Handcuffs."

Erik will not be distracted.

"Moaning and groaning over how much you missed me."

Charles finally has had enough. "Oh for god sake you bloody arse, I never should have shared those with you. I blame the whiskey." he spits out.

"You even had Hank send one out to be published."

Charles feels all the blood rush to his face. Erik knows this is playing dirty. "That's it." Charles spits out, "There is no way you are getting fucked tonight. Go back to whatever hole the Brotherhood is hiding out in..."

"You mean our fabulous safe house with a fully-stocked bar near the beach?" Erik says smoothly, almost purring in triumph.

"...and get yourself off with your own damn hand."

"Or get Azazel drunk enough to give me a blow job?" Erik says with a waggle of his eyebrow.

"If you are that desperate..." Charles hisses, then he stops as his brain takes in what Erik just said, "wait, has that actually happened?"

"Loose lips sink ships," Erik says cooly, making Charles even more angry. Before he can respond, Erik ups the ante. "Were they iambic pentameter Charles?"

"For god's sake, one community college course in English Lit and you're a bloody expert."

"Were they Charles?" Erik presses.

"You've read them." Charles snaps, then he starts to mutter something about wishing he had burned them.

"Were they?" Erik asks again. Charles glares at his lover.

"Yes." Charles spits out. There were ten abab cdcd efef gg sonnets."

"How terribly proper of you, Charles." Erik purrs smugly. "But really, ten? I think I may have missed out on a few. Would you like to recite them to me?"

"Fuck you, Erik."

"While I lick every inch of your body until you can no longer speak coherently?"

"Nice try." Charles says almost plaintively. "I told you that you're cut off tonight."

"Please." Erik says, managing to plead while looking entirely dignified. Charles feels his resolve start to soften. Still he cannot let this go without one last word. He levels a serious look at Erik.

"You broke my heart, you know." Charles says softly and he can feel the pain like it was yesterday. It's a deep ache that never seems to leave him, a wound that seems to never heal.

"We broke each other, Charles." Erik says quietly. His voice suddenly shifts from amused to brimming with pain, and Charles is flooded with regret that he didn't choose different words that day on the beach a lifetime ago. How would their lives have been different? Maybe they would just be a couple of old queer mutants discussing what to have for dinner, looking forward to the new Law and Order SVU and planning their next vacation to Palm Desert. No endless conflict, no world domination, no Erik going on tirades and threatening to destroy humanity. Maybe love would have been enough to prevent all of this pain they live with.

In the least it would have prevented the bad poetry. Charles looks at his lover of decades and feels his anger start to slip away, feels his resolve soften. Because it’s Erik, after all, and despite the fact that their life together if rife with mistakes, it’s still their life. Together.

"Would you like to go to bed, Erik?" Charles asks softly. Erik doesn't answer immediately but gives Charles a long look. Charles is struck by the fact that after all these years he can still love this man as much as he does. Maybe things could have been said differently, but the feelings have never changed.

"I am sorry too, Charles." Erik whispers. Charles is the telepath but somehow Erik seems to know what he's thinking. Their eyes stay locked for a long moment and their regret and love sits between them. Then Erik gives Charles a slow, lascivious smile.

"The dildo is all ready? I wouldn't mind being fucked."

"Yes dear." Charles sighs heavily. Some things never change.

"The big one?"

"YES DEAR. For god sake you can be such a size queen at times."

"I will never admit it. The bullet too?"

"I see. Insult my poetry and you somehow think you get all the treats."

"Butt plug?"

"Do you think it's your birthday or something?"

“Everyday's my birthday when you fuck me, darling.”

Charles rolls his eyes and flicks off the television. He reaches out his hand and Erik takes it readily.

“I love you, Erik.” Charles says, decades too late but still entirely soon enough.

~fin~


End file.
